the scholar' sweetheart 9

 I completed this last night so I am feeling pleased with myself. 

Chapter 9

 

Meanwhile, Woodlock and Cornelius walked Shuri home in an amity few might have expected.

“I can feel more charity towards that horrid man, knowing that he was taken in royally and at such a vulnerable time by one of our kind,” said Shuri. “Poor little boy!”

“I wish I had noticed,” said Cornelius. “But he was so much older than me, I would not have easily even recognised something was wrong, let alone been able to help him. I wish he had gone to Papa about it.”

Woodlock grunted.

“It’s shame,” he said. “Shit! Whose vardos are those?”

Half a dozen wagons with green-painted canvas covers were setting up camp in the field next to the current gypsy camp.

“There’s Crowy Heron,” said Shuri, in dismay. “The man my father wanted me to marry.”

“Play along with me,” said Cornelius. “It will not alter our agreement, Woodlock, that Shuri shall choose, but if he thinks her engaged to a Giorgio, and you ready to be chief in her stead, it may make him back off.”

“I hear you, brother,” said Woodlock.

Crowy Heron strode up to Shuri.

“I’ve come to claim you and your tribe,” he said, without preamble, reaching for her.

“Take your hands of my betrothed wife, Heron,” said Cornelius, coldly.

Crowy Heron regarded him.

“And who the hell are you, you little ponce?” he demanded.

Cornelius permitted one eyebrow to lift, an expression he had copied from Evelyn.

“I’m the liaison between the gypsies and the marquis,” he said. “My name’s Reckitt. The rules to camp on the marquis’s land are simple enough; take all the firewood you need, take rabbit, hedgepig, squirrel, or birds, split any deer half and half with the Hall, and keep your camp tidy.  No stealing from the Hall or from the village, and if you cause trouble, including fighting with the group already here, you’ll be thrown out.”

“And why should I abide by your rules?” demanded Crowy Heron.

“Because if you don’t, our people will hand you over to the Marquis as a troublemaker for risking losing us a good and cushy camp,” said Woodlock.

“Well, I’m trembling,” sneered Crowy. “Let yourself be pushed aside by a little boy you should have been able to break in half, did you? Gone soft, you have. We’ll take what we want, same as usual.”

“Then you have twenty-four hours notice to be off his lordship’s lands,” said Cornelius, evenly. “Because a refusal to abide by his lordship’s very generous rules means he will not feel in any way obliged to be accommodating.”

Crowy took a swing at Cornelius, who was expecting this. Cornelius blocked the blow on a forearm hardened by the noble art of pugilism, feinted with his left in a jab towards the face, disengaged his right arm and plunged it unopposed into Crowy’s solar plexus.

Crowy went down, coughing.

“Take your people and get the hell out,” said Cornelius, walking past him. “I’ll have some men come down to give you backup, Woodlock, for I suspect they may try something tonight.”

Woodlock nodded, grimly.

“Fowk wanted to join Crowy Heron’s tribe, and Shuri was to be the price of joining.”

“I take it that you do not want to join the tribe.”

“We’re Lovells; and there are enough of us to be a tribe without having to join others,” said Woodlock. “Fowk reckoned he could intimidate Crowy and lead both, and I say he couldn’t, but we’ll never know now as her ladyship did what was needful, and drove Fowk to death.”

Cornelius sniggered at this prosaic description of Imogen running Fowk down in her phaeton. He left Shuri at her tent, kissing her hand.

“I don’t do that fuss,” said Woodlock, sounding unsure.

“You have your own ways,” said Cornelius. “I was raised to kiss a lady’s hand on greeting or leaving her.  It’s not better, or worse, it’s my lifestyle. It’s not done to impress Shuri but because I would feel uncomfortable behaving any other way.”

“Aye, and I’ve seen you do it to old mother Lementina. I didn’t scoff. Well, not really. I was afraid fancy ways would win her over.”

“If you think Shuri is shallow enough to be won by a display of parlour manners, you aren’t man enough for her,” said Cornelius.

“Quite right,” said Shuri, hands on her hips. “I’ll choose the man, not his manners, and if I’ve a preference, I’ll not act on it until I’m certain of my own heart. And with that, boys, you will have to be content.”

Woodlock bowed his head, and Cornelius made a leg.

“I’ll go round up some gamekeepers and poachers to add to your men,” said Cornelius, and strode off to do so. He reflected that he had grown up in the time he had been teaching Jasper, going from a rather diffident youth to a man who could speak confidently for Evelyn, who was now a definite friend.

He wandered into the village inn.

“There’s a guinea for any man who can manage to camp with the gypsies without fighting with them to add to their forces against the new gypsies, who aren’t particular about who they steal from,” he said. He had their attention right away.

“And for how long?” asked Walter Hanes, the village ne’er do well.

“I gave Crowy Heron and his band a day round to get out,” said Cornelius. “If they don’t shift, you’ll be assisting our gypsies to throw them out.”

Walter spat on the floor.

“Crowy Heron’s bad business,” he said. “He’s a damned thief, and his band as bad,” he added. “He’s as like Fowk as if Fowk sired him.”

“And he’s trying to take over the tribe by forcing Shuri to marry him,” said Cornelius.

“Ain’t you sweet on her, Mister Reckitt?” asked Walter.

“Well, yes, as it happens,” said Cornelius. “And I am on good terms with her other true suitor, so don’t go pulling caps with Woodlock, he’s a good man. But I was the one who had the pleasure of knocking Crowy Heron down,” he added, with some satisfaction. This brought a murmur of approval from his audience.

Half a dozen villagers accepted Cornelius’s guineas to become gypsies for a day; it was a holiday, pay for a novelty, and those who could afford to leave businesses in the hands of their wives, or shut up shop for a good vail went willingly to find out about sleeping under canvas.

Cornelius went next to alert the bailiff to have his men and any useful poachers – except Walter Hanes who was already at the camp – to keep an eye on Crowy Heron and his band overnight. Then he returned to the hall.

Evelyn greeted him with a raised eyebrow.

“Potential trouble,” said Cornelius, laconically.  “Crowy Heron turned up with some men, and I’ve given him notice to quit.”

Evelyn frowned.

“I am happy to accommodate gypsies if they behave themselves,” he said.

“Yes, and so I told him and he did not see why he should change his habits. So, I gave him twenty-four hours to get out. He has intent of claiming Shuri, according to Fowk’s wishes, and forcibly take over the tribe.”

“The hell he does! You did right, Corny. I take back my reservations. Have you alerted the bailiff?”

“Yes, and hired half a dozen of villagers to add to the numbers at the camp. I thought I might go down with Jasper to sleep there overnight, specifically guarding Shuri.”

“I’ve no objection to Phebe sleeping in her tent for a treat, with Moppy,” said Evelyn.

“What a good idea!” said Cornelius.

 

Cornelius took a basket of the sort of dainties gypsies did not usually get to eat when he went down with Jasper, Phebe, Moppy, and their bed rolls.

“I brought pies, to add to the food, so you might feed us too,” he said. “And some of Mrs. Hudson’s cider.”

“That’ll be appreciated,” said Woodlock. “You ain’t sleeping in Shuri’s tent; you and Jasper can come into mine.”

“As I hoped,” said Cornelius. “Moppy is a good guard dog.”

“She’s a good size, now, too,” said Phebe. “Hello, Mama Shuri, we won’t let Crowy Heron take you.”

“Bless you, child,” said Shuri. “I am lucky to have an extra half-daughter as you might say.”

“It’s lovely to have lots of family,” said Phebe. “I went from having a jailor and a rather distant father whom I had to appease and was coached in what to say with lots of pinches and slaps, to having a father who cared more than I realised, and a brother, and a mama, and Jasper says I may share his ma and his tribe too, so it’s all very satisfactory.”

“And Evergreen and Silas are your brothers, and Hesilla is your sister,” said Jasper, firmly.

Cornelius shot him a look, and read that Jasper was happy for his friends to be family, but that Jasper did not want Phebe getting any romantic ideas about gypsies. He agreed. Lifting Shuri out of the environment to be his wife was a long way from a gently-reared girl having to live like a gypsy, and going from being ‘Miss Phebe’ to being reviled by most people. It was a good way to make sure that she was not about to be dazzled by any romantic notions, and he nodded approval to his charge. Hesilla might marry up, but Evergreen and Silas would have to do something like take settled jobs before they might consider non-gypsy brides. And there would be jobs here for them if they wanted. And for any of the tribe.  Evelyn had made an offhand comment about building cottages for the elderly, which could be communal and if they wanted to cook outside, that was fine, but with their own spaces inside as well. That way, the tribe did not have to worry about the infirm, who would be Evelyn’s pensioners. Cornelius could see a day when the tribe actually settled, on the whole, perhaps with occasional excursions to horse fairs rather than travelling continuously.

 

A little before sunset, it was plain that Crowy Heron’s people, some dozen in five carts, were packing up to go.

“No fight, then,” said Walter Haynes, disappointed.

“If they keep on going and don’t slip back during the night,” said Cornelius. “It’s hard to suppose he’s giving up without a fight, but I suspect he’s planning something sneaky.”

Walter sucked his teeth.

“You’m the expert on gyppos, master,” he said.

“I’m not an expert, but I do talk to people,” said Cornelius. “You might try it, sometimes; it might contribute to saving you from ending up in the lockup for your hasty tongue and fists.”

Walter grunted

He had to admit, though, that the vicar’s son wasn’t exactly sermonising. No, no vicar would be sarcastic.

Cornelius left it to Woodlock to set watches; the man knew his people, and probably had a shrewd idea about the village volunteers too. The children sat an early watch and went to bed; but all awoke when there was a sharp bark from Moppy. The faithful pup lay flat to the ground, growling as those sleeping leaped up to surround Shuri’s tent, and Evergreen gave a shout, pointing, as someone leaped the stile into the field, in hot retreat.

“Let him go,” said Woodlock. “We won’t catch a canny man like Crowy Heron with a start; but he knows that Shuri is protected.”

“I won’t be allowed to stay out with Moppy more than one night,” said Phebe. “And Moppy won’t stay without me. Can’t Ma Shuri stay at the Hall until he gets the idea?”

“I confess, I would be happier,” said Cornelius.

“My place is with my people until or unless I choose to become a Giorgio,” said Shuri. “I will not skulk in safety away from my family.”

 “Would it help if I put on your nightgown and slept in your tent whilst you shared with another woman?” asked Cornelius.

Woodlock sniggered.

“You’re pretty enough to be a woman, but Shuri doesn’t look like an escaped cupid,” he said. “Crowy would see those golden curls shining in the dark.”

“I, howeffer, look like my mother as well as my father, whateffer,” said Jasper.

“You don’t sound like her, with your grandmother’s Welsh accent,” said Cornelius.

“Diw! If I am sleeping in her bed with a long dark wig, I won’t be saying a thing, look you,” said Jasper.

Cornelius took Jasper’s chin in his hand, and examined his face, glancing back and forth to Shuri.

“He’ll have his father’s nose when he’s full grown, but it’s delicate enough as yet to look feminine,” he said. “And his angry shrugs and the toss of his head, that’s all you, Shuri. The looking down his nose, raised eyebrow, sneer, that’s all Evelyn. It can be done, and he only has to look enough like Shuri to be a decoy long enough for Crowy to try to enter the tent, and then he can scream blue murder.”

Woodlock nodded. “He’ll make a pretty girl, and where he isn’t identical in height, once lying down with a bedroll, he’ll do well enough.”

“Good, that’s settled,” said Jasper. “Mother, you will sleep with other women, and wear a headscarf and hide your air of authority; and I will skive my lessons to sleep during the day to be fresh at night.”

“Oh, I will, will I?” Shuri put her fists on her hips.

“Yes, mother,” said Jasper. “Because until you choose either Woodlock or Cornelius, as your son, I am head of the family.”

“When did you suddenly get so confident?” asked Woodlock.

“When Papa and Ma Imogen taught me that I am Jasper, a valuable person in my own right, not ‘The didekoi,’ not ‘The gypsy,’ not ‘The bastard whelp,’ not ‘Finchbury’s natural,’ but Jasper Finch, a man.” He folded his arms, tossed his head, and looked down his nose.

“I think we obey the man,” said Cornelius, quietly. “He is one, this day.”